Ghosts
by Wootiful
Summary: The four boys face four moments and four decisions that can change the future. Logan's and James' vignettes posted.
1. Hollow Men

Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush or T.S. Eliot's poem, "The Hollow Men".

_This is the way the world ends_

_This is the way the world ends_

_This is the way—_

Logan can't remember how the poem ends or why he wants to know. He stumbles onto his bed and lies, fully dressed, staring at the ceiling. He needs to sleep; he's been up for the last forty-eight hours, at least, polishing, perfecting and ultimately submitting his college applications. It's almost midnight and Logan thinks that when he wakes up he will have turned eighteen and then wonders idly if he should even bother waking up.

In the dark, Logan's depression turns to dreams. He sees black roads and silver rain and cars that become hearses. He smells alcohol and the heaviness of freshly dug earth. He tastes salt and bitterness.

But a light appears, a blinding light, and Logan wonders if he's dieing. But the light resolves itself it in to a sun, which warms his face.

Logan dreams now that he had gone to Hollywood with Kendall; they all went. Somehow in the dream this makes sense, forming a boy band makes sense, uprooting his life makes sense. Logan watches the other Logan live through the last two years.

Other Logan is so happy in LA: he lounges by the pool, he wrestles with his friends, he learns to sing, to dance, to live for the moment rather than for some distant future self.

Other James has his fantasies become realities: mere days after declaring he's going to marry Nicole Scherzinger, he meets her in person. The opportunity to be famous overshadows any bitterness other James feels towards Kendall, unlike Logan's James, who lost his confidence and his ambition.

Other Carlos still speaks to his friends, so different from Logan's Carlos, who can't bear to be around them as they collapse. But in the dream, Carlos has a swirly slide and dome hockey and a pool and no reason to be sad.

And other Kendall— well, even in a dream, it hurts to think about Kendall.

Logan dreams this other life. He dreams about hanging out with the guys, about performing for a thousand screaming fans. He dreams about skinny dipping in the pool and getting caught by the paparazzi. He dreams about staying up all night, about parties and work and stealing quiet moments to read his books.

Other Logan discovers new sides to his personality, spontaneity and ingenuity and creativity. He doesn't need to be a doctor. He doesn't need to have his perfectly planned life stretching out before him.

And then Logan wakes up.

Kendall is standing next to his bed. He looks the way he did in Logan's dream, not how he did the last time Logan saw him.

"You're dead."

Logan says it and he knows it, but he doesn't see it.

He doesn't see the shadows under Kendall's eyes: he hadn't been able to sleep in the California heat. He doesn't see the blank expression on Kendall's face: the pills to help Kendall sleep left him feeling empty. He doesn't see the scars: loneliness, stress and exhaustion made Kendall self-destructive. He doesn't see sallowness in Kendall's complexion: Kendall drank to much and ate too little.

Logan doesn't see the bruises, the crooked nose, the cuts and scratches. He doesn't see any evidence of the car accident. He doesn't see the broken body the EMTs brought to the hospital.

Logan sees Kendall, confident, healthy, beautiful. This other Kendall, so real and so false, reaches out a hand to him. Logan intertwines their fingers and moves over on his bed, pulling Kendall down beside him. For a brief moment, Logan is held in Kendall's arms, poetry in his heart.

—_the world ends_

_Not with a bang but a whimper._

And then Logan wakes up.

Its a chilly dawn in a Minnesota winter. Logan is sixteen and he's never even heard of Gustavo Rocque. But somehow, when the time comes, he knows what he must do. Somehow, he knows what he can't remember seeing in a dream he never had.


	2. Prismatic

Despite the fact that she's obviously crazy, James actually like Camille. She spends half her time pretending to be someone else, but she's still one of the most genuine people James has met; what she feels, she feels strongly and bravely, without question. She's also kind and supportive, a rarity in Hollywood. And, James thinks, beautiful, in her own way.

They've been friends since Camille offered to help him with his acting career. They compliment each other. James needs an break from the band's testosterone and Camille likes to escape the estrogen-fest of the Palm Woods' girls.

Currently, Camille is sitting across the counter from James in apartment 2J.

Kendall, Carlos and Logan had rushed out of the apartment, shouting about going somewhere to do something. Something about cheesecake, James thinks, or possibly pancakes. He hadn't been listening, being too busy pretending to be asleep so they wouldn't drag him along. He'd waited until they were safely gone and then called Camille.

James listens absentmindedly to the story Camille's telling as he makes lunch. She has an interesting voice, nasally, imperfect. It fascinates James; he spends so much time trying to be flawless, but Camille seems not even to notice her deficiencies, her nose, her voice, her occasionally frightening intensity. And the funny thing is, the more time James spends with her, the less he too notices her flaws. Certainly, they don't seem like flaws anymore, quirks maybe, just the little things that make Camille Camille.

Except for one thing, one tiny, inconsequential, glaringly obvious, horrible failing: Camille is impossibly fixated on Logan.

James flips the grilled cheese sandwich he's making and tells himself he doesn't care if she likes Logan. He doesn't care, he's just a little worried about her. He has a friendly concern; Logan won't ever feel the same way, Camille's going to end up getting hurt.

Camille's finished her story and idly asks some question about Logan. James grits his teeth and avoids answering by focusing completely on putting the finished sandwiches on plates. The indifferent mantra James has been repeating in the back of his mind is beginning to ring very hollow.

He's turning from the counter to face Camille, two plates in hand, when it happens. James has an epiphany. Spreading out behind Camille, like light shining through glass to form a rainbow, James can see her thousand possible futures.

She's a spectrum of human motion. She's happy, euphoric, elated. She's sad, melancholy, bitter, bitter, bitter. She's blissful, successful, defeated, destroyed.

James knows somehow what every facial tick, every variation in posture, every hair style and every detail means; somehow he knows the story of every Camille. That one just found out she's pregnant, that one's engaged. Some finally won over Logan; some left him, some stayed, some figured out what was wrong and some never did. Some had their dreams come true and others realized their dreams were meaningless, others found new dreams; some give up and some keep fighting.

And this one, sitting at the counter, nearest to the real Camille, she's sitting at the counter in her home, playing with her ring, waiting while her husband makes her lunch.

James sees the future spreading before him. He knows he can affect which of these ephemeral futures become realities; he can even be a part of some of them. All it takes to make the future is a few tiny decisions adding up over time.

James blinks and all the possibilities resolve once again into the one, present Camille. He puts down the plates and makes his decision.

"Camille," he says, "there is something you should probably know about Logan."

It's hard at first; she's angry and embarrassed, she blames him. But James knows he made the right decision; he cares about her and she needed to be told.

It's hard at first, but, in a few years, Camille knows he made the right decision too.


End file.
